camp BY ANY OTHER NAME; bringing back flowers

[Sweetbriar]

( ♡ ) Times have been so dour, lately. Sweetbriar hates to see her Clanmates suffering, curses the cruelty of Clan-skirmishes, lives swept away by the consequences of petty disputes. A warrior's lifestyle is not a kind one. Yet Sweetbriar vows remain kind despite it. It is little comfort, she knows, but she does wish to bring even a small bit of joy to the makeshift camp, if it is within her power to do so.

She comes back to the beech copse with a flower tucked behind her ear, a wild pink rose whose name she bears as her own. Plucked from by the Thunderpath, the sweetbrier is the only one of its kind among her offerings. The rest of the flowers the tabby brings with her are held in her jaws, haphazardly as per the number of them. She'd gathered as many different kinds as she could, that each cat may pick their favorite. Carefully, Sweetbriar places the makeshift bouquet in the center of camp. "I come bearing gifts," she announces, voice subdued but clear. "For all who should wish them. May they lift your wounded spirits, friends." She smiles, beckoning over any cat who appears interested.



It is tradition in RiverClan to express yourself through decoration, what kind of accessories will your cat wear? Are there any special stones, feathers or shells they would gift to another?

// feel free to take a flower of your choosing, or ask for one IC!​

 

[TIDEFROST]

Flowers, flowers. There's quite an abundance of them nowadays, isn't there?

Tidefrost gladly welcomes them, welcomes the warmer days that harbor the bursts of color. No longer are he and his short fur frozen with every passing moment, a blissful rejoice that he can feel his paws again. A bit of happiness, within the river's darkened days.

The black smoke watches with curiosity as Sweetbriar returns with more than her share of flowers, strewn every which way between her teeth. A colorful sight, a condensing of all the colors he'd seen across the territory as of late into a bundle more easily viewed.

Tidefrost is the first in line at her announcement that these flowers were indeed gifts.

"Oh! How special!" Tidefrost gleams, pale eyes scanning over the array in delight. So many options are placed before him, a hard choice upon him. The black smoke looks up at the warrior, ears twitching. "Which do you think suits me best?"
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[CRAPPIEPATCH]

The coming of spring should be a good thing, should mean happiness and peace. It should bring the clan good health. It should not come with conflict, with death, with loss. Gloompaw—gone, disappeared into thin air. Clearsight—gone, lost to a more certain fate. Crappiepaw had not watched the warrior die, but had heard the screams of their clanmates in the warrior’s final moments. They think that they would prefer to watch their friend die than this, sitting in the wreckage of their temporary camp and wondering whether Gloompaw is okay. The mystery of it all, not knowing why Gloompaw left, is killing them.

The brightness, the burst of new growth that comes with the changing of the seasons, only makes it that much worse. Flowers bloom, the weather grows warmer, and yet RiverClan suffers.

The voice of a clanmate offering gifts breaks Crappiepaw from their thoughts, and they flick an ear as they move to join Sweetbriar and Tidefrost. There are flowers, and the dark-furred warrior is asking which suits him best. He would not know what suits him if it hit him in the face, they think—and then they feel a bit guilty, stumpy tail drooping behind them. They should be nicer to their clanmates; everyone has suffered, no matter how happy they may look. "What kind of flowers," they ask, gesturing with a paw to the blooms that Sweetbriar has brought into the camp.
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[ FORTUNE LOVES THE BOLD ]​

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[frogpaw]

Suffering seems an understatement of their condition. There is no sense to the word; it lacks the calculation of the universe in the way that they stack worries like cairn stones, one after another after another atop the backs of every RiverClanner. Frogpaw is not a warrior. He does not know this suffering the way that warriors do, or perhaps he should not because he does. He tries to carry it with him, to understand it as it comes from the mouth of every other. Unlike those of his clanmates better suited for comfort, Frogpaw may only catalogue the troubles of others. At least the others are not so incapable as he.

The soft scents of newleaf fill RiverClan's temporary camp. He is drawn to them like a honeybee, though quite unlike one in every other aspect. Long and gangly, with curled ears twitching and foggy eyes wide and far too aware to be a cute little insect's. He looks at them like they're foreign to him, and in a way they are. When was the last time he had truly stared at a flower? When was the last time that it had mattered to him? Tentatively, one of the apprentice's broad paws lifts to scoop up one flower. Delicate petals, still soft and malleable in their fresh state. Frogpaw worries they might fall off with rough treatment, but they are more or less intact by the time he manages to thread them through his fur. Small white flowers– nothing grand, or beautiful. But grand and beautiful enough to lift his spirit a bit. "Thank you," he murmurs to her, his eyes crinkling with pleased thanks.

˗ˏˋ〚  OOC NOTES REFERENCE INFORMATION 〛´ˎ˗

• ooc: —
• 
• FROGPAW. APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN. EIGHT MONTHS OLD
  —— npc x npc, has several npc siblings. mentored by snakeblink.
  —— loyal to riverclan, but somewhat uncertain of his place there.
  —— unknown sexuality. single, not actively looking or interested.
  
  a lanky, slender black smoke with low white and soft blue eyes. his ears are gently curled, and each paw has at least one extra toe, making them seem broader and larger than a typical cat's.
• "speech"

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